Lorelai and Jess' Baby
by udon'tknowmebutiknowme
Summary: Rory has died. What will Jess do? What surprises has she left him?
1. Chapter 1

Lorelai and Jess' Baby

Chapter 1

"Hello?" I asked shortly into my cell phone as I sorted through a pile of papers.

"Jess?" I paused.

"Lorelai?"

"Yea…uh"

"As in the Lorelai that hates my guts Lorelai?" I said, efficiantly cutting her off.

"Yea, uh, listen Jess, this is…hard,"

"What? Why?"

"It's about…" she trailed off again. My mind jumped to the worst, why else would Lorelai call?

"Rory?"

"Yea. See…she was…"

"Was…?" I prompted.

"Pregnant. And married. And see…"

"_Married?"_ I asked shocked.

"Yeah. Married." She sighed, as if having this conversation was causing her physical pain.

_Married?_ The word raced through my head until it was a blur.

"Lemme guess, blond dick at Yale, right?" I spat out bitterly.

Lorelai let out a strangled laugh, "Yep. That's the one. God he was a jackass…" she trailed off, remembering

"And he got her pregnant?"

"Yeah." She sighed again. "They had been married two years."

"So, got hitched right after her graduation, huh?"

"Uh huh."

"Lorelai, come on, what's this about? You wouldn't call just to chat."

"Sorry. This is just…hard, alright?"

"Okay, just…spit it out," I said, gesturing, forgetting she couldn't see it.

"Rory…"

"Is she alright?" I asked alarmed.

"She's dead."

Time froze.

The world stopped.

The phone dropped.

A million memories rushed past.

Bridge, _Howl_, post-its, prom, Luke's couch, her couch, Indian food, cigarettes, _Almost Famous_, The Clash, Dodger, winter carnival, concert, car, bus, pay phone.

"Hello?" I heard Lorelai call distantly, it sounded like she was crying.

In a daze, I picked up the phone.

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Thank you Jess" was the last thing I heard before hanging up the phone, grabbing my keys and walking out the door.

"Lorelai?" I yelled as I banged through the front door three hours and thirty-seven minutes later.

Luke appeared in the hall, looking the same as always but with a different glint in his eyes this time.

"Is…is she really…gone?" I asked weakly. I had tried to convince myself it was all a lie, all a joke the whole drive down.

Luke nodded once.

Tears sprung to my eyes. I didn't bother wiping them away as I felt my keys drop from my hands.

I think Luke had a few tears in his eyes as well but I didn't stop to notice. I spun on my heel and kicked the door.

Suddenly, I couldn't stand even being in this hallway, the setting of so many conversations was in this house and I opened the door roughly and stomped down the stairs, kicking them harshly when I reached the bottom.

"God dammit!" I yelled through my tears. "God fucking dammit!"

I buried my face in my hands, in absolute defeat. Then felt a heavy hand on my shoulder.

"Why? Fucking dammit. Why?" I whispered.

I don't know how long we stood there, but finally, I managed to get myself under a small amount of control. I wiped my face harshly and turned to face Luke.

"Where's…" I started weakly. I coughed. "Where's Lorelai?"

"She's at my old apartment. We've been staying there…ever since…she…she says it's too hard here." Luke struggled through the words.

I nodded in understanding. I wouldn't want to ever see this place again either.

"Come on, she needs to talk to you." Turning to leave.

"Right," I mumbled, showing no signs of movement.

"Come on, there's a lot you still don't know," he said and turned and walked away, not bothering to see if I was following.

"Huh? What else?" I thought and then started after him.

"Lorelai?" Luke called as he opened the door to the old apartment.

"Hey" she said as she came around the corner from where the main bed was. She was trying to hide the fact she had been crying but gave up when she saw me and rushed towards us. Luke held his arms open for her but she brushed past him and hugged me tightly.

Luke and I exchanged bemused glances and then he gave me a well-do-something look.

I awkwardly put my arms around her and whispered what I hoped to be comforting words into her ear.

"My baby," she whispered over and over. "_I_ was supposed to go first…she, she never got to be the Reigning Lorelai…it wasn't supposed to be like this…"

"Shhhhh," Luke whispered as he gently pried her away from me and held her. I uneasily patted her shoulder as Luke whispered to her.

Whatever he said, it seemed to give Lorelai some sense of control and she wiped her eyes quickly, giving Luke a weak smile.

"Jess, we need to talk" she said, sighing and turning towards me.

"About…" I coughed. "About the funeral?"

"Not exactly…uh, Luke?" she looked to him for help (what help I had no idea.)

"Let's sit down."

We sat at the table, looking like we were waiting for our last meals. Lorelai kept giving Luke pleading glances but he just gestured, wordlessly telling her to just say it—whatever _it_ was.

"Jess," Lorelai started and sighed heavily. Taking a deep breath she tried again, "Jess, you remember me saying that Rory was pregnant?"

I nodded.

"Well…that's how…she, you know."

"She died during labor? _No_. that's…that's crazy. People don't die in labor. Not anymore. She…no." I rambled, not able to complete a thought.

"I know. But, it was just…one of those things."

I nodded again, defeated.

"She…she left us the baby."

"_Us?"_ I asked in disbelief.

"Yes. Me and you."

"But…but, but what about _Logan_? Isn't he the father?"

Lorelai shot Luke a quick glance, I took almost no notice of it I was so stricken.

"In normal cases, he would get custody, but she stated otherwise in her will."

"Her will?" When did she make a will? What twenty-five year old makes a will?

"Yes, apparently she got one done right before she married Logan. It states that any children she might have will go to me _and_ you. Not just me, not just you, we _both_ have to raise the baby."

"But, that's crazy; I don't know a thing about babies…"

"There's no getting around it. She had her lawyer—a damn good one by the way—close all the loopholes. Even the Mighty Huntzbugers couldn't find a way around it."

Luke snorted. I glanced it him and he shrugged, arms still folded.

A feeble cry pierced the air

"I just put her down," Lorelai muttered as she got up and went to the main bedroom area.

"Shhhhh…hey sweetheart…shhhhh, I'm here," she cooed to the small pink bundle.

She brought hr to where I was sitting and held her out to me.

"Oh, no, I'm not too good with…"

"Well then it's a great time to start. You've got to raise one" she said, sufficiently cutting me off and placing the infant in my arms

I looked from Lorelai to Luke to Lorelai for help. Lorelai just gestured to the baby.

I looked down. She was beautiful, pale, porcelain skin with rosy undertones. The longest lashes I had ever seen on a baby, not that I had seen too many. She already had a crown of dark hair with hands not able to hold a quarter.

I smiled dumbly at her, I'd never really _seen_ a baby this close before.

Her eyes blinked open and she stared at me.

I was in love.

"What's her name?" I asked, not once looking away from the infant.

"Emily Rose Lorelai Gilmore. Rory, Rory said she'd have to be the Reigning Lorelai, and wear the crown and the cape." She paused and smiled weakly to herself, a shadow of the woman she used to be flickered across her face. I knew them well enough to know it was another one of their inside jokes that the pair had shared. "And then Emily, for my mom, Rory never wanted anyone left out. And Rose because she wanted her daughter 'to always have flowers in her life.'" Lorelai finished, smiling softly at Emily.

"Is Emma okay? You know, for short?" I asked, looking up at Lorelai. She had tears in her eyes and etched down her cheeks, not once looking away from her grand-daughter.

I looked to Luke for his agreement and he nodded as if sensing me because he too never looked away from Emma.

Her eyes I realized later were the exact same shade of blue as Rory's.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"Okay, so is Emma coming to the…funer…thing or should we get a babysitter?" Lorelai asked, stumbling over the words slightly.

"Um…I think she can come." I responded

"Okay, that's fine" Lorelai said picking up Emma and handing her to me. "Your turn. I'm going to go shower."

We were all staying above the diner. None of us wanted to be near the house, be surrounded by the memories that haunted it, even though it would have been more practical and made more sense. And living above a diner was useful when Lorelai would wake up crying or saw something that reminded her of a happier time and would eat whole pies or pint upon pint of Ben & Jerry's.

We were coping best we could for the next few days, the three of us taking turns with taking care of little Emma and running the diner below, anything to keep busy.

Logan had called only once, asking if we wanted Rory's things. He said "it was too hard to look at them." I wanted to shoot the bastard, but he had called instead of coming in person (coward) and I couldn't.

The entire town had decided to wear black for the rest of June. Luke's wardrobe didn't change except for a colorfully knotted bracelet that he had muttered Rory made for him when she was in the sixth grade. Lorelai wore old jeans and baggy t-shirts, no crazy shoes or light-up hair things. No make up either and the circles under her eyes became more apparent and contrasted drastically with her pale skin. I stuck to my band t-shirt and jeans, they were all dark blues and blacks anyway.

I had stopped reading though and listening to anything besides the heaviest death metal I had. Nothing _she_ liked or that we had ever talked about.

I had told Chris and Matt I wouldn't be back anytime soon so they decided to send _me_ all the manuscripts in need of editing. They also told me that "The Subsect" was selling "like crazy" and they were reprinting, ignoring all my threats of what would happen to them if they did. Damn those assholes.

And then Matt (the guy has no tact whatsoever, I swear) threw in the "need" for a dedication, and could I write that up and send it to them within the next week or so?

Like I really needed the reminder that the only reason I wrote that piece of shit was gone.

I closed my eyes tighter, ignoring the smell of coffee Luke had put on and the buzz of my alarm clock.

If I didn't get up, didn't open my eyes, didn't move, this would all go away.

Today was the funeral.

And I wanted no part of it.

But, because Lorelai was in no fit state to talk to anyone, Logan had dumped Rory's stuff and scrammed (to Fiji last I heard) and Luke could barely manage to string five words together with_out_ a crisis going on, that left _me_ to do the eulogy.

I was up half the night trying to put into words the being of Rory. Her hopes and ideas, her brilliant mind and utter wackiness, her unwavering faith in people. And failed each time.

I was supposed to be a writer, wasn't I?

I had written about her before, hadn't I?

Emma started to cry. I doubted Lorelai would be able to stand on her own today, much less care for an infant, and Luke was downstairs, so I forced myself up and staggered to her cradle.

"Rory was…the joy, the spark to this town. All of us loved her, and she loved us all. Rory believed in all of us. Even me, the delinquent, the screw-up. But she believed in the impossible and made it happen,"

I paused. By this time, most of the audience was in tears, Lorelai's sobs above them all. Luke was staring at his wrist where the bracelet was tied, tears falling onto the thin yarn. Emily was holding Emma like a lifeline. Richard was crying, a bottle of vodka in hand, his tie sloppily done and his jacket buttoned wrong. Christopher was holding Lorelai's hand and crying himself. Babbette and Miss Patty held on to each other and kept passing a packet of tissues back and forth. I thought I saw Paris in the back, but couldn't be sure. Mrs. Kim was praying with her rosary and Lane was sobbing quietly, silent tears running down her pale features.

"Rory didn't get the time she deserved here. Didn't get the chance to do everything she dreamed of." I paused again, remembering.

"And that's not fair. Because if anyone deserved the chance to have their dreams come true, it was Rory."

I can't tell you what else I said. The rest of the speech was blurred by my tears and kept running off the page, so I made it up as I went on. The next thing I knew we were passing by the coffin.

Lorelai was first.

She reached in, as if to touch her, but then yanked her hand away, as if the air around her daughter was fire.

"My sweetheart, my baby angel, my sweet baby girl…you be good in heaven, alright? And I'll raise Emma, just like I raised you and she'll know what a great mommy she had, and how special you were to us all. I love you my baby, my little girl. I love you kid."

Then it was Luke's turn, who mumbled something I couldn't hear and slipped a large to-go cup inside the casket and then hurried off the Emma cradled in his arms.

I walked slowly to her. Her skin was ashen, but her expression peaceful. Her eyes were shut and her fingernails were painted rainbow sparkles. Her closed lashes looked like they could pop open at any moment, her rosebud mouth curling into a smile and a "Gotcha!"

I held my breath, half hoping she would and half just drinking in the sight of her because I knew she wouldn't.

Lane talked next. She whispered to her best friend, slipping a bundle of what looked like pictures, letters and scraps of paper with scribbled notes. Then she paused and uttered something else and slipped in a few CD's.

And then she was carried in that awful box to that awful grave with that awful hole.

Lorelai, not able to control herself any longer, fell to her knees, horrible sobs racking her body.

Luke's arms were busy with Emma so I knelt by her and held her tightly, rocking us back and forth. The past hate was forgotten; the memories of our love, our best friend held us together at that moment and we cried.

A long while later, I glanced up, no one was there.

We were alone Lorelai and I, and she was only a whisper in the trees, an echo in our hearts.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The days following the funeral passed slowly. The diner was open, but no one ordered food and no coffee was made. It was the meeting house for the town without their princess.

The only reason I got up each morning were for the moments I could swear I heard her laugh, her voice calling out to mine, her pleas for coffee. (Why else would I bother?)

Lorelai handled the baby almost entirely and refused to let Luke or I help so she might have a minute of rest.

She hummed lullabies and whispered stories as her weight plummeted and deep purple blue circles formed under her eyes.

"This isn't healthy," Luke would whisper to me over and over, but what could we do?

Finally, after two weeks and almost twenty lost pounds, Luke decided that the only way to help her was to get her away for a while. He checked her and himself to the nicest hotel he could find in Hartford, ignoring all of Lorelai's protests and packing her bag himself.

Lane came to help me while the couple was gone and though she was abnormally quiet and somber, she taught me everything I needed to know about taking care of Emma.

"Just pull that tag off there…and wrap it around here…and stick it there…and you're done!" she said, manipulating my hands in order to change Emma's (millionth) diaper.

"Okay…thanks, I never been able to figure out how to do that," I said. Lane picked up the child and sat them both onto the blanket already spread on the floor for "Tummy Time."

Lane shook her head, waving off my thanks, "It's not a problem, really."

With nothing left to say it became awkward, we looked around, keeping our eyes on anything but each other.

"So," I started, clapping my hands together once, "Want something to drink?"

"Um…sure, a coke would be great."

Lane got up to sit at the table, thanking me for the beverage.

We had never really been the best of friends; we hardly knew each other in fact. The only tie connecting us was Rory and without her here to break the tension everything felt awkward and weird.

"Don't you want to sit?" Lane prodded, desperate to make things comfortable.

"Yea, sure." I said as I hastily pulled out a chair and sat, sloshing my coke in the process.

"Shit." I mumbled.

Lane giggled as she handed me a handful of napkins.

I wiped the spill up and threw the dirty paper into the trash.

A few awkward minutes later I couldn't take it any more, "I've got some work to do, for Truncheon you know, do mind if I…?"

"Oh, no, not at all."

I smiled wanly at her as I stood, muttering a word of thanks on my way.

I sat on my old bed and scoped up the thick envelope containing the new manuscripts.

I couldn't focus though so I shoved the papers back inside the packaging and pulled an old shoe box out from under the bed.

I pulled the lid off and grabbed the first scrap of paper from inside, it was a napkin from a bar.

_Dear Rory,_

_I'm so sor_

The second sheet, motel stationary;

_Dear Rory,_

_So, hear your still with Bagboy, good for you, hope you get married and have a million fucking kids with the bas_

The third, on spiral notebook paper, the ragged edges still clinging on;

_Dear Rory,_

_I want you to know that I love you, but I can't ever be good enough for you. Everyone else knows it, and I knew it too, I just didn't want to admit it but I realize now I have to. That's why I left. Not because you wouldn't sleep with me or because I didn't want to go to prom or because I got bored. _

_I cannot put into words how sorry I am for hurting you and making you think that this was ever your fault.  
>It was a fool's dream, to think someone like me could be with someone like you. Your mother was right for hating me.<em>

The fourth;

_Dear Rory,_

_I meant what I said about loving you. Sorry I couldn't_

The fifth just had _Dear Rory_ scribbled onto it several times, each time crossed out and re-written a few lines below.

I flipped through more; some written while drunk, some while smoking: ashes and burn marks still lingering on the paper, some with messier-than-usual handwriting sure signs I was driving at the time.

The next was right after the night at the bar that Logan so thoughtfully crashed in on, on more motel stationary.

_Dear Rory,_

_He is an asshole Ror, don't you see that?_

_Even I was better for you than him, even Dean was! Did I ever help you steal a yacht? Did I ever let you drop out of _Yale_? Or let you go months on end without speaking to your mother? Or let you move in with you grandparents and join the D-A-Fucking-R? _

_This isn't you Rory, you can't let him_

This was right after the kiss at Truncheon.

_Dear Rory,_

_I can't believe you would come back here, tell me it was all fixed, kiss me, let me hope that _somehow_, we could be together just to pull away and tell me you're still with that complete fucktard! I can't believe you'd do that to me—to anyone! I just can't believe you'd_

I was brought out of the next letter, filled with cross outs and smears by Lane, sitting next to me.

"What are those?" she asked softly.

"Letters. To Rory. Ones I never sent. I always thought I'd be able to give them to her someday; to apologize, to explain everything. Guess not." I said the last part bitterly, stuffing the letters back into the tattered shoebox and making to throw it under the bed. Lane grabbed my wrist and took the box and before I could protest had opened it and taken out one at random.

"May I?" she asked politely and mutely astounded, I nodded.

_Dear Rory,_

_I hope you're doing well. How's Yale? I know whatever you're doing you'll be great at. _

_I'm in Atlanta now, as you can see from the postage. California just wasn't my thing, and my dad was all too happy to let me go._

_I can't even begin to_

"So, this was right after California?" She asked after reading the previous letter aloud.

"Uh huh," I responded numbly.

_Dear Rory,_

_Don't let anything that happened with us_

"Don't let anything that happened with us _what_?" Lane asked with a spark of curiosity in her eyes.

"I don't know," I said lamely, shrugging, "Couldn't think of it, so I just didn't finish it. Most of these are only half finished anyway."

_Rory_

_I love you_

_Jess_

_P.S. - I am so sorry._

This one she read silently as I read over her shoulder. Her eyes scanned over the few short lines several times, then blinked and wiped them quickly.

I felt awkward, how was I supposed to handle a crying Lane? I slowly, so she'd have time to pull away, put my arm around her shoulders. The second my hand made contact with her skin she collapsed into me, jarring me.

"I always knew you loved her, I always knew it, even though everyone hated you, even though I thought she could do better; I always knew you were it for her." She cried a bit harder.

"Shhhhh," I whispered.

"You wouldn't have hurt her would you?" she asked suddenly, sitting up, a blazing look in her eye.

"Never." I said sincerely.

She nodded once, "Good."

We looked around the apartment, each absorbed by our own memories; meeting one another's eyes once or twice and glancing away quickly.

"Lane?"

"Mhh?" she mumbled her eyes fixed on the rug.

"Did Rory…" I coughed, stalling, "Did she, love me?"

At that Lane smiled; but not at me, not a ha-ha-bad-boy-said- something-mushy type way, more of a remembering way.

"Yes…she once told me that she had a feeling one night, after that horrible dinner with the grandparents, that she could see herself with you at every Christmas, every birthday, every holiday. She said she could see the two of you, your life together."

"I lied to her that night." I admitted quietly.

"Huh?"

"I told her that my black eye, it was from a football. It wasn't. I…"

"You got beaked by a swan." She finished for me.

"How, how, do you know that?"

"Rory figured you were lying when you said you were 'playing football' and wormed it outta Luke."

I sighed, "Well, she does know me."

"Yea, you playing football! Ha!" she laughed shortly as I glared daggers at her.

"Was she happy with Logan?" I asked numbly the next morning a breakfast; I was at the table, tea in one hand and Emma cradled in the other. Lane was at the stove, her back to me and I heard the metallic clink of a fork being dropped onto the counter.

"No. but she put on a good show of it. Everyone was convinced. Except me and Lorelai of course." I opened my mouth to speak, but since she had her back to me she plowed right on. "He went on a lot of business trips, and she'd come here and stay with Lorelai. She cried most of the day. Lorelai was at work but she still knew; how couldn't she? I would usually come by for an hour or two, but she didn't like that. She didn't want anyone to know how much she hated it all."

Lane sat down, a platter of scrambled eggs in one hand and two empty dishes in the other.

We ate in silence, kept out hands busy and our eyes down.

Lane said she thought I had the baby thing under control, at least for a few hours, and went downstairs to help Caesar. What there was to help I had no idea, no one ordered anything, but I let her anyway.

I decided to bring Emma outside. I carried her, even though Luke had assembled her stroller (with much difficulty), but the hood blocked my view of her which made me uncomfortable. I bypassed the frilly pink diaper bag and opted instead to put extra blankets, bottles, diapers, clothes into a beat up black backpack. I felt it was more dignified that anything with dancing pink bunnies and elephants.

I took Emma to the old Independence Inn, to the potting shed Rory used to tell me about. It didn't look like it had changed much, there was still the rosebud wallpaper and the flowery curtain in front of the bathtub that she had describe in great detail. I sat us both on the creaky bed, face to face on our stomachs and repeated the stories Rory had told me about when Lorelai and she were growing up here.

Emma stared at my face the whole time and smiled once, when I said 'Rory.'

As I fed her, I told her about her mother and grandmother's crazy eating habits, I think she liked that too because she drank more than usual.

"You're gonna be just like her Emma, mark my words. You're gonna rant about nothing and watch crazy movies a hundred times and eat seventeen meals a day and drive me crazy." I whispered to her, tweaking her nose softly. Emma blinked and yawned. Naptime.

I took a blanket out and wrapped her loosely in it before I picked her up for the walk back to the diner. Emma was asleep before I shut the door of the shed.

I got a lot of looks on the way back to the diner. Some mean, about half the town didn't want the town hoodlum raising the town princess's baby; Taylor, Kirk. The rest were sympathetic; Moorey, Gypsy, Andrew.

That stupid bell tinkled as I walked in and every head turned to stare. Everyone of them looked like they were just dying to start talking so I pointed to Emma and then put my finger to my lips. They nodded and some turned back to their tables but not Miss Patty. No, no, no.

"Hi there doll" she whispered to me, motioning me to come closer. Which I did, reluctantly.

"Miss Patty, I gotta go," I started but she cut me off.

"Oh, I know dear, this will just be a minute. I was just wondering; how have you been doing?"

I arched my eyebrow quizzically.

"You know, with Emma, and with Rory, bless her heart, passing on?" my jaw tightened and almost every other muscle in my body followed suit; Emma shifted still asleep but uncomfortable in my new grip. I debated quickly and silently whether or not to respond and with what. Deciding I maneuvered around her table and walked swiftly up the stairs.

"What are they thinking? Are they seriously gossiping at a time like this? Have they no respect? Is this fucking town honestly that crazy?" I fumed silently. I banged the door open and kicked it closed roughly with my foot. Emma awoke, startled and began to wail.

"Shit" I muttered. I rocked her, bounced her, hummed; nothing seemed to calm her in the slightest.

Lane came up right about then, a sympathetic look in her eyes.

"Let me try," was all she said. I gave her Emma gratefully.

Lane rocked her slower than I had and hummed a lullaby (I had hummed _Guns of Brixton_, the only song I could think of at the time.)

Emma's sobs turned to whimpers and then, with a hiccup she was asleep again.

"I'm sorry. They just…they make me so fucking _mad_." I said softly, my back to her.

"I know, they've been doing the same to me all morning." Lane whispered. "I threatened to kick them out about an hour ago. That hushed them." She said and the corners of my mouth twitched.

We put Emma in her little crib together and then sat at the table, lost. Because what could we do? We had managed the three weeks so far, but how much longer could we handle it?

"Jess" she whispered hoarsely. I leaned in, taking her face roughly into my hands and kissed her.

It was hungry, hard, passionate. There was nothing sweet or gentle about it.

She pulled us up and pressed herself against me. She bit my lip harshly, and I clutched her slender waist more tightly to me.

We stumbled through the kitchen and onto my bed, bumping into walls and stepping over feet.

We toppled onto my bed and she groaned, pulling my shirt above my head.

This was a revenge fuck, end of story.

A big "F you" to the world for stealing the most important person away from us.

We were not gentle, there was no need, we had survived the worst possible thing, nothing could hurt more than that, and we didn't speak.

We didn't fit together like Rory and I had; our hips clashed and our legs kept kicking awkwardly but we were too far gone to care.

I unzipped her jeans and thrust into her fluidly. She whimpered and bit my shoulder callously.

"Not…fair" she murmured and I knew exactly what she meant because it was exactly what I had been wondering for the past three weeks.

"It's. Never. Fair." I said thrusting into her with each word.

After, she's pulling a brush through her hair as I sit awkwardly at the kitchen table.

"I…That…" I start several times but the words don't come out and I don't know what to say.

"Jess, it's alright. We've both been…well, it doesn't change anything. We're still friends."

"Right." I sigh, relieved. "I'm gonna go out for a smoke." I kiss her forehead on my way out.

"I thought you quit!" she says with a playful sternness.

"It's hard…harder without her." I say, and the smile is wiped from Lane's face and replaced with an empty, hallow look.

"Everything is, isn't it?" she says softly. I don't respond; just shut the door quietly behind me.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The cigarette hadn't helped at all. I wasn't really expecting it to, they never helped when it came to Rory, but yet I stayed out by the dumpsters behind Luke's until the pack was gone and cigarette butts surrounded my feet.

Casual sex wasn't a new thing for me, but actually knowing things about the person I had done it with was. And the fact we would remain friends and see each other regularly. All of this was foreign.

I felt guilty, like I had cheated on Rory, even though it has been years since we've been together. But every girl since her felt wrong. Thus, none lasted long. A quick fuck here and there when the memories got to be too much and I couldn't stand one more night alone, forgetting to forget.

They were usually blonds, like Shane. Sometimes a redhead. Never a brunette. None had blue eyes or porcelain skin.

Try as I did, she was never out of my system. All my wet dreams were about her. All the books I read and movies I saw, I would imagine what she would have thought of this character or that plot. Nothing was sacred, nothing was without her attached.

I don't think that will ever change. The memories will always be a fresh cut in my soul, and Emma was sure to be everything Rory dreamed.

I wandered. Past the bridge, the gazebo, Dwight's house, until I was at her front door. It's not true what they say, about wandering and ending up where you least expected to be. I knew where I was going. I knew that I needed to go.

I took the key out of the turtle and let myself in like it wasn't dragging a rusty knife through my soul.

The foyer was where I gave her _The Shags_ CD. The living room was where we made out on quiet afternoons her mother was kept busy working. The kitchen was where we discussed books with Paris and ate enough food for twelve people. Her bedroom where her window was my usual escape route after my night time visits.

Clothes littered the floor and books occupied every bare surface. Her collection was huge, much bigger than mine. You can't bring everything important with you when you move every few weeks.

I fell onto her bed, exhausted. How had I made it this long? Three weeks? It was an eternity in my eyes. Even though I couldn't see her, I knew there was always the chance, always the possibility of her coming back to me. Always the chance of randomly bumping into each other in Stars Hollow when visits happened to coincide.

Resting my head on her pillow, I briefly wondered why it was wet before I realized I was crying.

I fell asleep surrounded by her scent.

This was it. This was all that was left that I knew how to do. I loathed the redundancy of it. Why did I have to continue to inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, for so many years to come?

I have been used to the fact that life is never fair. I understood that from an early age that the people you needed would never be there and the only one you could trust was yourself.

And then she changed that, a simple reference to _Oliver Twist_ and I threw my entire philosophy out the window, only to be proved to yet again that life just doesn't work like that. She was gone, forever and this was exactly why I never wanted to fall for her.

I knew from the start how this would end. She would be gone and I would be left, alone and heartbroken. I tried, I fucking tried not to let her have this effect on me—but dammit! I ended up not as strong as I thought.

I desperately wanted to give up; the urge to do so was so incredibly strong. But Rory threw me another curve ball and left me her daughter. I had failed her in everything else, how could I fail her in this? And Emma was everything her mother was. I knew this would bite me in the ass, staying around, watching her grow and become her mother's daughter. Bur yet I knew I would stay if it killed me—which I'm not so sure it won't. I knew it would hurt me like nothing else had, and yet I would stand and welcome it if it meant being just the tiniest bit closer to her.

I was a glutton for pain when it came to Rory Gilmore. I almost hated myself for it. Almost.

*~*~*~*~*~*~ 6 MONTHS LATER*~*~*~*~*~*~

Extensive renovations had been made to the Gilmore's Crap Shack, and it hardly deserved the title anymore.

Rory's room was to become Emma's nursery. A short hallway, laundry room and a bedroom now connected the extended kitchen and the garage. The new bedroom became mine. Lorelai's room was expanded to make room for Luke and a guest room had been added to the upper level.

With all this done, we could no longer ignore the fact that we needed to clean and box up Rory's room to make room for Emma.

Lorelai and I decided to tackle the task one Saturday together while Babbette and Morey took care of Emma, who had begun crawling recently, and Luke was at the diner.

The clothes were sorted, "keep," goodwill," and "Lorelai's closet." Books were moved either into the guest room or my room. Papers, notes and pictures were either boxed or taken by Lorelai or myself. Her stuffed animals alone filled two large cardboard boxes.

Lorelai set to work on the desk, the only thing in perfect order, while I turned to the closet. I started on the clothes, assuming that was all that was there but instead, wedged into the furthest corner, I found two shoe boxes duck taped shut and a large moving box.

The first shoe box was labeled "Dean." The second was labeled "Logan." With a sinking feeling I reached for the last, and largest box. Her Jess box.

I swore, catching Lorelai's attention.

She saw what was at my feet, "Crap. I forgot about those. Looks like you've found yours." She said, lurching to her feet and crossing the room.

"When…when did she make this?"

"It started right after you left. But she's been adding to it for years," she said, crossing her legs to sit beside me at the floor of the closet.

This one was not clumsily sealed with too much duck taped; instead the well worn cardboard flaps were tucked in neatly.

"You can open it" Lorelai suggested. "I think she'd want you to."

I opened it apprehensively; cautious of what was to come. It was mainly filled with books: Oliver Twist and Howl among them, with a dozen CDs thrown into the mix: _The Distillers_ and _The Clash. _There were the earplugs from the concert, her Chilton uniform, candid and posed pictures of us from when afternoon when we had fun with an old camera found in Luke's apartment. There was what must had been her prom dress, a slinky red strapless gown and I wished for the thousandth time I had not gone to California, if only to see her wear it.

I began searching through the books, curious to see which ones she had buried away within the box when she said it.

"I'm sorry"

I dropped the books in my hand.

"Huh?"

"I'm sorry I hated you."

"Uh…wait, what?" I asked bewildered.

"I knew she loved you, I knew you loved her, but I didn't want her to be hurt. I…I was hoping she would find someone…safer. But real love isn't safe I guess," she rambled. I stared.

"What I mean is, I'm sorry," She continued. "It wasn't fair to you. I based my whole opinion on that night we met and I was too stubborn to ever think differently. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too. I could have done a lot differently. Try and help change your opinion even. I never gave you a reason to trust or even like me. And I believed Rory about me as much as you did. she always gave me too much credit."

"Maybe back then. But definitely not now."

We paused, the air surrounding us suddenly heavy with all this truth pour out of us.

"So…did we just have one of those cheesy bonding moments?" I asked, smirking.

Lorelai grinned, "You bet mister."

"Heated egg rolls taste _so_ much better," I said appreciatively.

"Yeah, I thought you might welcome a little use of the microwave this time," Lorelai laughed.

We finished sorting and packing most of Rory's room and we were now taking a well deserved lunch break.

"So when did Rory tie the knot with the sleaze ball?" I questioned.

"He popped the question during her graduation party. She turned down an offer to follow Obama's campaign and they were married that spring."

"My invite musta been lost in the mail," I said sarcastically, only slightly bitter.

"What? But you _were_ invited!" Lorelai said shocked.

I munched through my Kung Poa Chicken. Lorelai's fist hit the table.

"Dammit Shira! 'Oh you're doing everything, let _me_ take care of invitations,'" Lorelai mocked in a high, whimpering tone. "Bitch," she muttered.

"And Shira is…?"

"Logan's mother."

"Ah," I said simply.

"She cried. She was really hoping you would come," Lorelai said quietly. "Would you have, if you had known?"

"Yea."

Lorelai nodded and we resumed eating in silence, a heavy weight pressing down.


End file.
